


Remember When School Was Fun?

by crystalemerson



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Palaye Royale (Band), Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystalemerson/pseuds/crystalemerson
Summary: Emerson Barrett wakes up one day, and is told he's going back to school. Assuming he's dreaming, he goes along with it, but the school day is entirely different to how he expected it... Is it really a dream, or is Emerson stuck in a hellish alternative universe?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Why tho, like, why wake me this early, seriously

**Author's Note:**

> HELLOHELLOHELLO  
> what's up? here's my first fanfic. and there's no smut! yeah if you came for smut, leave. also, no awkward shipping, although i might imply some gay ships at some point. but nothing really serious, and no kisses or sex or anything. anyway leave comments and kudos if you like it! tell me any mistakes and stuff i hate grammar and spelling mistakes.

"EmerSONNNNNNN!"  
Emerson swore sleepily. He was sure Sebastian had promised not to wake him this morning. It was his way of saying sorry for keeping Emerson up until two in the morning the night before with that damn house party. And Emerson was fine with that, but Seb had broken the promise. 

"Why, Seb, why?" Emerson lamented.

"Why? Um, school, dummy."

What the fuck? School? Convinced he was having some kind of nightmare, Emerson turned over, fully prepared to go back to sleep. Just as he closed his eyes, he heard Remington yell from downstairs. Yelling that they had to go. Go... where? Oh yeah, school.

Pissed, but sure he was dreaming, Emerson moved to get out of bed. He assumed there must be a uniform or something to put on, or at least a dress code of something. There was nothing obvious in terms of uniform. Huh. He had a uniform at his school when he was a kid.

So Emerson wore his usual clothes: shirt, waistcoat, many necklaces (though less than normal) striped trousers and smartish shoes. And a hat.

He headed downstairs where Rem and Seb were wearing... suit jackets? Since when? Well, yeah, Seb wore suits, but not navy blue with a black tie. That was just... boring.

"Finally, he wakes!" said Rem, already heading out the door. Seb followed, and so Emerson did the same. They got in the car. It wasn't theirs, but it probably was in the dream.

"Let's listen to the Up soundtrack!" said Seb. Emerson frowned. He loved the Up soundtrack, but they had a tradition where they'd always listen to My Chem on the way to somewhere early.  
"What about My Chem?" he complained.  
"My what?" he heard Remington say whilst rustling about trying to find the CD.

"MY WHAT? What the hell? My Chemical Romance? No? Never heard of them? Rem! You love them!" Seb and Rem were giving him strange looks, so he stopped talking. Well, maybe they aren't part of this dream, Emerson mused. Still sucked though, he was in the mood to listen to some Bullets this fine morning.

The car journey was quiet, apart from the gentle piano of Up, and they soon pulled into the parking lot for school. How bloody weird. The teachers' car park. Huh.

WAIT.


	2. Welcome to Hell (also known as the school)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i'm writing again

The school... It was just average really. Nothing out of the ordinary. Which struck Emerson as odd, considering he was dreaming, and he would have expected there to be something weird about the school. But no.The only weird thing about it was that it was a church school. Emerson knew that neither him or his brothers would have chosen to go to a church school. But hey, it was a dream. Or at least he bloody hoped it was.

Emerson's view of religion was different to that of his brothers. Where Rem and Seb were fairly sure that there was no god, Emerson didn't know. All he did know was that he wasn't Christian. What a great day he would have.

Remington knocked on the window of his car door.  
"Get out Em!" he said, startling him out of his thoughts. Wearily, for he had woken up so early, he cracked the door open and dragged himself out. He made to follow Seb and Rem. Shit! They'd left without him! Now what was he going to do?

He decided his best bet would be to head into the school, which wasn't teeming with children as it was like, EARLY. He walked in, unsure as to what to do with himself, being so early. Starting down the corridor nearest to him, a vaguely familiar face came towards him.  
"Morning Mr. Barrett," said the face.  
Oh shit. Oh shit shit shit. Please tell him this wasn't what he thought it was. A student he could do. But a teacher? Oh no no no no no.

All this inner turmoil was taking place while walking slowly down that same corridor. He felt someone approach him from behind, and saw a blonde dude coming up in front. A VERY familiar blonde dude.  
"Mr. Way!" Emerson heard from next to him as the dark haired guy from behind him passed him, finger guns pointing at who Emerson was pretty damn sure was Mikey Way.  
"Mr. Way!" Mikey replied, also with finger guns blazing. As they reached each other in the corridor, they high-fived. Seb wandered out of a nearby classroom.  
"Mr. Ways!" more finger gunning. Mikey frowned/smiled as Gerard moaned.  
"Mr... Fuck you Danzig!" he said, "You always ruin it for us! Oh hey Barrett."

It took most of Emerson's self-control not to die right there on the spot. Gerard Way, addressing Emerson as an equal? When did that start? Since when were Mikey and Gerard Way not in a band? So many questions.  
"Uh, hi..." Emerson trailed off as first bell rang. Had he really been walking that slowly before?

Well, where to go? Of all the lessons, which one would he be most likely to teach? He had no clue, and even if he did, he wouldn't know where to go. 

A(nother) familiar face stepped out of the stairwell. Emerson recognised him instantly as Ray Toro. Toro made his way over to him in a purposeful manner. Emerson was rooted to the spot in fright. What if he was going to ask a question about marking or something? But what Ray did say was quite different.

"It's okay, I was confused like you. Don't worry. You teach Religious Studies. Room C4. Meet me in the canteen at lunch." And he walked off [AND HE WADDLED AWAY WADDLE WADDLE]. Hmm... That was a lot to take in. He wasn't the only one missing their life? Did that mean... it wasn't a dream?


	3. Religious Studies, What A Lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention earlier, but the kind of school system is far more similar to that of British schools because that is all i have experience with. should be noted that discussions will arise regarding sexuality and the bible, and unfortunately the class em is teaching is a rather homophobic one. i myself am lgbt but i'm not gay,and therefore won't be using the slurs, but i need them there for effect so i'm replacing all homophobic slurs with "frog". because frogs are positive and wont trigger people.
> 
> anyway yeah enjoy

What the hell was this going to be like? Emerson was worried. He didn't know shit about god and the bible. And he was teaching a class of 27 loud 15 and 16 year olds. Oh god...He didn't even know what the lesson was on. Maybe he should ask.  
"Umm... Class?" The class was still loud.  
"OY!" shouted Emerson. The class was quiet. "Can anyone remind me of what we are learning today?"  
A few people called out. He heard some calls of "frogs" and "frogs" from a few members of the class, and was angry. He wasn't gay himself, but had a lot of gay friends, and gay fans, and he would NOT tolerate words like that in his classroom.

Look at that. Emerson the teacher already. 

From what he could gather, they would be learning about whether or not gay marriage was a sin. Well, it wasn't, but Emerson was sure he'd have to teach both sides to this group. Fuck.

After searching around for some time on the computer, he found a PowerPoint on the topic. At a closer look, it did appear to be pretty one sided, and judging by it's frequent use of 'frog', you can probably guess which side. Emerson decided to scrap the PowerPoint, and got started with the class.

"Alright. Listen up. In this classroom, there will be NO use of ANY homophobic slurs, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" He was shouting, but he wanted to get his point across. The class remained quiet. Good. Now to get down to business.  
"Okay. Go left if you think being gay is not a sin." About six people moved. "Go right if you think it is." The rest of the class thundered to the right. Damn. Emerson was going to have his work cut out here.

He explained how the debate was going to work. One person speaks, another raises their hand to respond. Simple. He started off with the for gay is a sin team.

"So, bAsIcAlLy gAy pEoPlE cAn't BrEeD sO tHeRe's No NeEd fOr tHeM," said the first kid. Emerson thought that was utter bullshit, but he let the other team tell them that.  
"But love is love" said the other team. True, but a sad, sad comeback. Somehow though, it was enough to piss the other team right off. They clearly weren't used to simple, true facts. Poor them. Emerson started to laugh at what he'd created when the arguing started. Let those homophobes get shocked by the quiet kids! While the rather heated debate continued, a man entered the room and surveyed the scene. He looked important. He looked like... Phil Lester.

Emerson thought he might be the principal. Damn. How did he explain the riot in the classroom? But Phil just looked at him and said, "Teaching the gay lesson? What a bad first lesson to teach," and left.

So... another person aware of whatever fucked up thing was happening here... Emerson, Ray Toro, and now Phil Lester. Or so he assumed: it could just be that Emerson's character in this fucked up narrative had really just started a teaching job, the same day the real Emerson had rocked up. But Em didn't think so. After all, Gerard Way knew him.

Emerson, ever more confused, calmed the lesson down and ended it without mishap. Now just a few more lessons until he could discuss with Toro what the hell was going on.

Just a few more lessons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also, tell me in the comments what stupid offensive things have been said to you and blamed on the bible. don't get me wrong, the bible is great in many ways but people do abuse it's messages
> 
> also thnks fr th kds means a lot that people read what i write and enjoy it


	4. Something's REALLY not right here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, THE UMBRELLA ACADEMY do you agree.
> 
> also, in this story, frank iero has kids. i want to stress that they are for STORYLINE PURPOSES ONLY and are not supposed to bear ANY resemblance to his kids irl. please, please understand that i will NEVER write someone's real kids into a fanfic. it's very disrespectful and downright creepy. as i say, fraNknk has kids in this story, but they are not based of his actual kids. hope i made that clear

Ahhh. Lunch. A break from the incessant chatter of children. Now, Emerson could finally rest. And maybe he could go to sleep and wake up in real life. If only. But, no, a rest would do. In his wonderful, quiet classsroom. 

He enjoyed the silence for about ten minutes before he remember vaguely about Ray. But since he could barely recall the conversation, as it had been shoved to the back of his brain by kids, he had reason to believe it had never occured. So he sat in his classroom, at his desk, for another few minutes before he heard a knock at the door, and saw Ray and Phil appear, with one of the kids. Emerson groaned inwardly. Not another child. Ugh.

"Mr. Barrett?" said Phil,"I think we should all talk".  
"Sure. Please will someone fill me in as to why the fuck I am here?"  
"Because you have a job here Mr. Barrett, a job I gave you, and a job which, if you don't like it, will be given to someone else."

Oh. God. Phil sounded so SERIOUS. But... didn't he know? 

Mr. Lester burst out laughing.  
"Oh god!" he said between giggles. "Your FACE! Dude, sorry for messing with you. Man, this is all so weird I KNOW. But I just had to."  
Emerson flipped him off. Ray did the same. The kid moved to copy, but Phil smacked his hand down.  
"ALRIGHT alright. Fine. I'll tell you all we know," began Ray, who just wanted to eat. 

"Exactly a month ago, Harry here," He gestures to the kid, "arrived at this school. He believed it was a dream, but did not wake up from it. Before this, he was at a school in New Jersey, living with his mom, dad, and non-identical twin brother Jack. The strange thing about his case is that in this world, he, over the last month, became best friends with Jack, but Jack told him he had a twin brother who was stillborn. So basically, Jack and Frank don't recognise him.

"A week later, Phil arrived. Harry noticed a change in the usually uptight headmaster, and took the liberty of asking. Phil said yes, he was confused, what the hell was going on? Obviously, Phil's a lonely bitch, so the only person who noticed a change was his wife Louise, who he appears to be married to in this world. Louise actually confronted young Philly here, and asked him 'why he was acting so gay',"

"Yeah, get this, everyone thinks I'm straight here," Phil interjected.

"Yes, yes, shut up, lemme finish. Alright so then a week later I showed up. Harry and Phil both knew the signs by then, and explained pretty quick how much they knew. Basically, you're here and a week later, we think someone else will be. Any questions?"

Emerson considered for a moment, before asking,"So what about my band? We're going on tour in a week! Will they miss me? Who the fuck are the Remington and Sebastian I'm living with?"

Brendon spoke again. "Those people are still your brothers. Just chances are, they don't play instruments. And... as for your band at home... they might only notice you're gone if your double from here can't play drums. And if he can… they might never notice you're gone."


	5. Chapter what

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i've been away a while, i was trying to decide what to do about br*ndon so i just wrote him out. bye bih. gone. replaced by phil lester, a perfect substitute. anyway, please comment and stuff because i literally forgot this existed until i got an email about kudos or something the other day  
> also as it still stands, i'm replacing homophobic slurs with 'frog'  
> also tw a car crash

Emerson made it through the day, and eventually, it was time to go home. He had no teacher stuff to do after school, so he decided to linger by the car. Sebastian and Remington turned up soon, and they all got in the car. On the way home, they listened to Bach, and Emerson was glad to see that that was still a thing in this world. They sat mostly in silence, which was very uncharacteristic of them all. In a usual car journey, they would all be talking and laughing, or arguing, but they never just sat in silence.

Emerson decided to break the silence.   
"So how was your day?" he asked to no one in particular. Remington mumbled a 'not bad' from where he sat in the passenger seat, and Emerson got no further interaction from him. Sebastian at least engaged, telling him about a kid who had tried to slap him, and then asked about Emerson's day.  
"Well, I had to teach a bunch of teenagers that being gay is not a sin, which was tiring. Who knew they could all be so damn homophobic?" he replied.

Seb looked at him oddly. "Are you feeling alright?" he said, looking confused for a reason Emerson couldn't fathom.  
"Yeah, why?" Emerson replied,  
"Well, it's just that... like... ew. Since when did you stand up for frogs?". Emerson felt like he had been slapped. He recoiled visibly, and looked at Seb incredulously. He was about to challenge this when there was a screech of tires, and a bang. Emerson was thrown forwards and hit Remington's seat with a jolt. His body ached from the impact, but it didn't appear to be a major crash. They had just hit a tree.

"What the fuck Seb?" shouted Remington. "All I ask is that you drive me home safely, and you can't even do that, you disgusting piece of shit!"  
Emerson's mouth dropped open. It was so unlike Rem to have an outburst like this. In fact, in all of Emerson's lifetime, he had never heard Remington call Sebastian a disgusting piece of shit. Or at least, not seriously. Who the fuck was this monster he was living with?

Sebastian was shouting back now, arguing and swearing and almost growling at Remington, and it was awful. These people were so different to the brothers he was used to, but they bore similarities in looks, and that was really unnerving.

Eventually, tired of hearing the arguing. Emerson got out of the car, slammed the door and stormed off home.

*

_Remington stared, confused, at his little brother, who had just run downstairs, screaming about being late. It was 4pm, and Emerson was looking at his pocket watch and fully freaking out.  
"Why didn't you wake me up you nasty slag!" Emerson said nastily to his brother. Remington recoiled, shocked that his lovely little brother would talk to him in such a manner. And what was he late for?_

_"Late for what? Why did I need to wake you up? And don't talk to me like that!" said Remington. Emerson swore violently, rushing towards his phone, lying on the counter. Remington picked it up and stood on a chair, holding it out of his reach. "Answer me!" he said, and Emerson huffed in an exasperated manner.  
"For school, you idiot!" ___


	6. Homesickness

Emerson retreated straight to his room when he got home. The car was not in the drive, and his 'brothers' were not home yet. Emerson did not want to be there when they came back. It was unsettling and disturbing how they behaved in this world, and he just wanted to wake up and for life to be all back to normal again.

He rummaged around in his cupboards and drawers to find something to draw with, agitated by the day's events. His hands landed on a sketchbook deep in his sock drawer, and with some difficulty, he extracted the large item. Once out, he was pleased to note that it was A3 with thick paper, just like what he had drawn on the night before, in his actual life. Opening it up however, was a shock. Instead of his chaotic doodles and neatly arranged cities, pages upon pages of dense, dark abstract paintings greeted him. Full of deep blues, violent reds and inky blacks, they stared at him mournfully, enveloping him in the pain of his double.

Being the same person as the man who had created these, Emerson understood very quickly what they symbolised. His mind finished the paintings as one might finish another's sentences, painting a grim image of solitude, selfhatred and dissatisfaction with life. The art was so, so hopeless, like the artist had never found what he'd always wanted to do in life. And by the looks of the teaching job, he never had.

Emerson felt an extreme level of sympathy for his other self as he looked at the art. Eventually, he decided to try and source art materials, and looked in the same drawer, hoping to find a pencil or a fineliner. Instead, his fingers brushed some smooth wood, and he gripped something which felt familiar. He pulled out a pair of battered drumsticks. They looked well-used, but they also seemed like they had just sat in there for a long time. Like they'd been given up on, forgotten even.

Emerson studied them intently, no longer interested in drawing. They were Vic Firth glossy back ones, 5As with tapered ends. The ends and halfway down the stick were littered with grooves from playing hard, but a specific thing caught his eye about this pair. One of the sticks was vastly less glossy than the other. Emerson KNEW these sticks. He'd bought them a couple of days before the Halloween of 2009, and when Remington had dressed up as Jack Skeleton, he'd got white paint all over one by accident. Emerson had panicked and baby-wiped it, but the chemicals had stripped the gloss. 

Emerson remembered that he was so close to giving up playing, and the sticks had very nearly been the last straw for him. But he had persevered, and to good avail. Maybe... this double had just given up?

A crash woke him as his door swung open. Sebastian stood there, angry. He stormed into the room, moaning about how Emerson had just left, how he should have stayed and helped, until he stopped, looking at the drumsticks in Emerson's hands.  
"You gave that up years ago! Why are you bothering with those old pieces of crap?" Sebastian started as Emerson tried to put the sticks away. Sebastian took them off him.  
"I'll get rid of them for you. You know there's no point playing, it doesn't make you any money, and it's loud." Sebastian stalked out.

Shocked once again by his older brother, but unable to argue incase he drew attention to himself, Emerson spent the rest of the evening stewing in his room. Who the fuck was this guy? The Sebastin HE knew would NEVER discourage music. Fuck, Emerson wanted to go home now. He had well and truly had enough.


End file.
